Page 101 of The Sound of Harmony

“I haven’t talked to her. But now she won’t have to worry about running into me when she’s working for you.”

“She doesn’t want any more referrals from me.” Mitch stood, keeping the plastic sign between them. “She quit.”

“Because of me? I’m sorry, Mitch.” Kendrick rubbed the side of his face. Just one more thing I ruined.

“No, she quit because of me. Well, really, because of her.” Mitch tapped the sign as if trying to anchor it to the ground.

“I don’t get it,” Kendrick said. “I thought you liked her work. And I thought she liked staging houses.”

“Women. Nobody knows what they want, am I right?” Mitch backed off a few steps. He turned one shoulder away. “Me and Emma, we got our signals crossed.”

“What does that mean?” Kendrick was getting a sick sensation in his gut and his mouth had gone dry, making it hard to swallow. He waited for an answer.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mitch said.

Kendrick continued to wait in silence. The muscles in his arms and legs were coiled tight with energy that had nowhere to go. He concentrated on his cousin through the buzzing sensation in his brain.

Mitch’s tongue briefly touched the corner of his lip. “Okay. So. I thought she was sending me signals like she was interested. I go to make a move, she’s suddenly not interested anymore. It happens like that sometimes, am I right?”

Kendrick ground his teeth. “When was this?”

Mitch’s shoulders bobbed up and down. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Kendrick spoke slowly and deliberately, his eyes locked on Mitch’s. His hands became fists. “Think. Think very carefully. Because until Saturday night, Emma and I were still together.”

“Yeah, like I said, Saturday night. After the concert.” Mitch clasped his hands and worried his fingers together. “What’s the big deal? It never went anywhere, and you two were over, right?”

“Mitch.” Kendrick breathed heavily through his nose. He couldn’t believe how steady he could keep his voice in the midst of such rage. He spoke slowly and firmly. “You have five seconds to tell me how you made a move on the woman I love.”

“Oh, now that’s just sad,” Mitch said. “Jesus, dude. She dumped you in front of your—well, in front of everyone.”

Kendrick dropped the contract folder on the ground, ready to charge. “Three, two…”

“I told you already,” Mitch spat. “It was just crossed signals. Can I help it if I’m more of a man than you? I don’t wait around for women to—”

Kendrick slammed into Mitch’s shoulder, knocking them both to the ground. He bounced off and hit the dirt, knocking the wind out of himself, but he gulped air and went after Mitch, throwing a punch at his face. Mitch flinched away. Kendrick flailed in the air.

Mitch aimed a knee at Kendrick’s groin, but he twisted away. The knee connected with Kendrick’s hip, and he yowled in pain. He wanted blood.

Mitch got ahold of one of Kendrick’s fingers and pulled it back on itself. Kendrick yelped again. Jesus, that hurt. He turned, batting at Mitch with his other hand. Mitch hit back.

They were like kids again, rolling around on the lawn, trading slaps, punches, and kicks. They were both yelling at the top of their lungs, trying to be brave. They weren’t trained fighters and had no idea what they were doing. All Kendrick knew was that he wanted to hurt Mitch, wanted to make him pay, wanted him afraid.

Mitch was on top of him now, raining blows on his head. Kendrick popped his forehead up and smacked it into Mitch’s nose, forcing him backwards and off. Kendrick scooted away.

Mitch got to his feet and ran for his car. Coward. Kendrick gave chase, but he wasn’t fast enough. Mitch was inside with the door closed before Kendrick could catch him.

“You’re nuts!” Mitch called through the cracked window, breathing hard through his mouth. His nose was bleeding, but only a trickle, which disappointed Kendrick greatly. He would love to have broken it.

Mitch put his car in reverse. “You and that woman deserve each other.”

As he watched his cousin drive away, Kendrick thought that was the first true thing Mitch had said since he arrived.

He stood in the driveway a moment, catching his breath, inhaling the scent of wet leaves and the cool night air that said winter was around the corner. He listened to the soothing breeze stirring the last of the maple leaves in the tree overhead, the scampering of small animals in his neighbor’s underbrush, and far away, the sound of frogs singing down by the river.

He’d once had a nice life, playing in the finest orchestras, his own compositions performed all over the world. So what? The audience applauded. Big deal. They’d put on their coats and get into their cars, and by the time they got out of the parking lot, they’d forgotten what they’d heard. No one was helped. No one was changed. No one’s life was improved simply because they’d heard his music.

And every night, Kendrick would go home to his flute and his piano and his short-term relationships with women who liked him, but didn’t understand him in any meaningful way. Women he spoke to only in words, because none of them ever saw inside his heart.

He turned and looked at his grandmother’s house—his house. No, his home. He slipped the sales contract out of its folder and tore it in half, then picked up the Bell Real Estate sign, stomped on it to break it into parts, and put both the contract and the sign in the outdoor trash bin.

He didn’t want to move away. He didn’t want to sell his home. Forget just for now. He didn’t want his life to be just for now. He wanted permanent. He wanted roots. He wanted to stay in Cannondale forever and write beautiful music and dedicate it all to Emma.

His blood stirred with a rush of creative energy. Probably just adrenaline from the fight. It was dangerous to rely on that, but why waste it?

He limped up the porch steps and opened and closed his fists a few times. Between the scrapes from the rosebushes and the bruising from hitting Mitch, he might not be able to play piano for a while. He might not even be able to play flute very well, but he was damn sure going to try. And he knew which song to start with.